Courting Death
by Lothlome
Summary: It's been a year since the Chitauri descended on New York, and the Avengers have finally had time to get back to their individual lives. Tony has a new assistant, Steve adjusts to modern life, and Clint reunites with an old friend. But when a star goes missing in the Omega Centauri system and Loki returns, the heroes must once again come together to protect the Earth from chaos.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Just a heads up, this story contains two OCs who are major contributing factors to the action. If that's not your thing, feel free to hit that back button. Oh! Ships, people love to know the ships: Clint/OC, references to Clint/Natasha, Steve/OC, Tony/Pepper... pretty sure that's everything. Happy reading! - Lothlome **

Chapter 1: The Amazing Iron Man

Charlotte had never imagined another building could fit in with the classic New York skyline, but the Avengers Tower had managed to prove her wrong. She didn't know much about Tony Stark outside of what she'd seen on television, but she had to admit, he had style. Charlotte opened one of the building's glass front doors with a forceful pull. A gust of warm air rushed to greet her and blew her hair away from her eyes. Before she could take one step into the lobby, she was ushered to a metal detector by a group of security guards and given a full body scan. They gave her a pink slip then directed her to the circular reception desk in the center of the room. She was barely able to explain to the secretary that she was there to see Alena Monroe before a call was made, and Charlotte was told to take the elevator up to the 49th floor.

When the elevator finally landed Charlotte wasn't sure where to go, and it took three helpful interns and one custodian to point her in the direction of her best friend's office. She knocked on the open mahogany door, her eyes wide from stress. Alena glanced up from her glass desk, which was covered in blueprints, folders, and piles of paperwork.

"You look like you've seen a ghost," Alena commented, giving her friend a once over. Charlotte walked in and collapsed into the chair in front of Alena's desk with a loud sigh. She threw her purse on the ground and kicked her legs up over one of the arms of the chair. Alena watched her in disapproval but said nothing.

"This place is awful," Charlotte remarked. Alena rolled her eyes and went back to the papers laid out before her. Alena had been working for Tony Stark for a year, and not once had she thought it a good idea to invite Charlotte to her place of business. Now Charlotte knew why.

"I told you to meet me at the restaurant," Alena said, repressing impatience. "Why didn't you just wait?" Charlotte looked at her watch significantly, but Alena wasn't paying attention.

"Uh… maybe because our reservation was for an hour ago," Charlotte said, leaning down to catch her friend's eye. Alena's head shot up, her eyes wide.

"What?" she demanded. Charlotte nodded. Suddenly, Alena was the picture of contrition. Her jaw slack, her eyes round, and her forehead wrinkled. The grudge Charlotte had been planning to hold immediately rushed out of her. "I'm so sorry!" Alena exclaimed. She dropped all her papers and sank down into the black chair behind her. She shook her head and bit into her lower lip. Charlotte could tell she was beating herself up and decided to end her friend's misery. It wasn't such a big deal anyway.

"Forget it," Charlotte said. "You can make it up to me by paying." Alena snorted as Charlotte shot her a grin. "So what's the deal? Are things here always this insane, or is today just special?"

"Well, today is special," Alena said as she stood. Charlotte got to her feet as well reflexively. "But it's always crazy." Alena grabbed a few folders and tucked them against her arm. "Wanna take a trip to the 50th floor with me? Meet the boss?" Charlotte raised both eyebrows.

"And pass up the opportunity to meet the famous Tony Stark? Hell no," Charlotte replied. Alena smirked.

"Just remember you said." Alena headed out of the room, and Charlotte almost had to jog to keep up. She was curious as to how her friend kept up such a lively pace, let alone in heels. One short elevator ride later, Charlotte and Alena stepped off into the penthouse. There were reporters, photographers, and assistants everywhere. Charlotte bumped at least twenty people as she followed Alena, who navigated the sea of bodies without once getting smacked.

"Ah! There she is!" Charlotte stopped abruptly, her chest banging into Alena's shoulder. She looked up and found Tony Stark. He was surrounded by stylists, all busy adjusting his hair and clothes. Charlotte saw the famously dependable Pepper Potts nearby, watching the proceedings from behind the white screen set up for the backdrop of Tony's photo shoot. "Where've you been hiding, kid? I've been asking for you. I need your opinion on a tie." He snapped his fingers and sent a group of stylists to stand before Alena. They each held a tie, some traditional, some bow ties.

"You've already got a tie on, boss," Alena pointed out.

"Not for the shoot, for tonight," Tony clarified.

"I'd leave that decision up to Miss Potts," Alena said. Pepper smiled in good nature and rolled her eyes.

"He's more than capable of picking one for himself," she said. "And I told you, call me Pepper. You've certainly earned the right to use first names with everything we've all been through."

"That's right," Tony said, pointing at Alena as she went to bring her folders over to Pepper. "If I hear you call me 'Mr. Stark' one more time it's gonna get ugly in here."

"Duly noted, boss," Alena said. She and Pepper began whispering to each other over the folders. Tony watched them over the top of his sunglasses. Charlotte assumed the photo shoot had suddenly become boring for him now that someone else in the room was getting attention.

"Why don't we take five, boys?" Tony suggested, shooing the photographer and stylists away. The crowd receded like a wave pulling back from the shore. Charlotte dragged in a deep breath of relief. "What's all this?" Tony asked, moving in on Alena and Pepper's meeting.

"Just some contracts I need you to sign," Alena said. Tony motioned toward the table, and Alena and Pepper headed that way before he could even verbalize his request. Charlotte followed their movements, hovering near them without fully breaking in on their company. Alena place a pen on the table in front of Tony, and he picked it up.

"What is this? What am I signing?" he asked, his eyes bouncing from contract to contract.

"Work order on the tower we're erecting in Malibu," Alena said. Tony scribbled on it, and Alena swiped the folder from him. "Press authorization," she said. Tony scribbled again and Alena took the papers out of his way. "Autograph," she said with a wearied smile. Tony's mouth curled up at the corner.

"Adding it to your collection?" he asked her.

"It's for the receptionist's son," Alena said without batting an eye. "He's a big Iron Man fan."

"Well, aren't we all?" Tony returned. Alena offered him a placating smile as she rolled her eyes.

"Well, we're all set here for now. I left the minutes from the latest board meeting with Miss— Pepper," Alena amended, turning to the woman on her left. Pepper gave her an approving nod. "So you can just give those a once over after you're done here, or throw them in the garbage, which is what you normally do with them. I'm going to—" Alena attempted to walk away from him as she finished her sentence, but Tony grabbed her by the elbow to keep her from escaping.

"Hey, hey, hey… you didn't tell me what you thought of all the—" He gestured around, and Charlotte assumed he meant all the hub-bub with his photo shoot.

"Of the fact that _Forbes Magazine_ is putting you on the cover?" Alena filled in. "Well, I think it's a sad day for _Forbes_, sir, but other than that—" Charlotte's eyes widened in surprise. That seemed far too unprofessional a statement to have escaped her best friend's mouth. She knew Alena. She was all about boundaries.

"Whoa, nix the 'sir.' You don't call me 'sir.' I feel like I'm back with Fury," Tony said with a clap of his hands. "And who… is… this?" he asked. Charlotte started, surprised to find Tony's fingers pointed at her. He sized her up. "I do _not_ remember hiring you. Did I hire her?" he asked Alena and Pepper. Pepper shook her head, her lips folded in affectionate amusement.

"No, actually, this is my friend Charlotte. She came to pick me up for lunch," Alena explained.

"Your friend Charlotte?" Tony repeated as he stepped forward with his hand extended to the newest addition to his world. Charlotte shook hands with him. "I like friend Charlotte," he said with a smile. He snapped and the stylists who were in charge of his ties rushed forward. "What do you think, friend Charlotte? Black or red?" he asked. Charlotte looked to Alena for some sort of guidance, but her friend just shrugged and urged her to indulge her boss's whims with a weary look. Charlotte took a hesitant step forward to give the ties a closer look.

"Uh… the red one," she said. Tony smirked.

"My thoughts exactly," he said. He snapped again, and the stylists went back to being part of the crowd around them. "Tell me, Charlotte, you like champagne?" Charlotte raised both eyebrows.

"Yes," she said. She was completely bewildered, but in that moment she decided to just roll with the punches. It seemed to be the only way to survive.

"What about boring classical music? Or big gold fountains with naked cupids peeing water everywhere?" he continued. Pepper sighed loudly and placed her hand against her forehead. Alena shook her head and looked at the ceiling. "Come to my charity event tonight," Tony said, and finally his thinking became clear. He pointed at Alena.

"Kid, make her your plus one." It wasn't a request. "I know you don't have a date lined up." Alena sighed. Charlotte got the sense Tony made cracks about her friend's love life, or lack of one, often. "The festivities start at six," Tony said, his eyes on Charlotte once again. "You're gonna love it, I promise. Nice to meet you, friend Charlotte." He started to walk away, back to his photo shoot. "Kid, get out of here. I'm cutting you loose. Buy yourself something nice for tonight, on me. And what happened to the glasses?" he asked, gesturing at his face as he studied Alena's. "I liked the glasses. They made you look like a librarian."

"My contacts came in this morning," Alena said with a tight smile.

"Wear the glasses more often," Tony said. "And your hair up. I like your hair up too. Makes people think I have you doing serious business." Thankfully, Pepper stepped in to cut Tony's monologue short. She placed her hand upon his arm, which quieted him.

"Thanks, Alena, we'll see you tonight," she said in a kind voice. Alena smiled before turning on her heel. Charlotte hurried after her.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Normal 

"Your boss is an ass!" Charlotte exclaimed just as their waiter appeared with an order of dumplings. His eyes widened at her exclamation, but Charlotte didn't say anything to diffuse his discomfort, so he headed back into the restaurant.

"Well, we owe him a magnificent tip now," Alena remarked before turning her attention to their food.

"Doesn't matter," Charlotte said. "Right now we're talking about _how your boss is an ass_," she said, emphasizing each word loudly to make sure Alena was getting the message. Alena looked at her and sighed heavily.

"In this economy I'm lucky to have any job at all," she said. "Besides, it's not so bad. I've gotten used to him." Charlotte's eyes bulged.

"You are kidding me, I'm pretty sure you got sexually harassed at some point," she said. Alena shook her head.

"That's just how he talks."

"Do you realize you don't want to work for someone who talks like that?" Charlotte asked, her eyes narrowed. Alena threw her head back and laughed at the sky. It wasn't a laugh of amusement, rather one that was meant to cut the edge off her frustration.

"If I don't mind it what difference does it make to you?" Alena demanded, her mouth still stretched in a rictus.

"Because you're my best friend, and I don't like to see you treated like crap," Charlotte said. It was that simple for her. Alena smiled at her, her expression suddenly soft.

"Well, I'm okay, I promise," she assured her. Charlotte rolled her eyes and grumbled a few curses under her breath. "And the pay's good enough that I can afford to put up with Tony's crap," Alena added. She bit into a dumpling. "So, do you want to be my plus one to this charity event? You'll save me from spending a very boring evening making sure Tony doesn't cause any public scandals." Charlotte crossed her arms over her chest.

"I have to go," she said. "I have to make sure this ass doesn't try anything with you."

"He has a girlfriend," Alena said pointedly. Charlotte shrugged.

"Doesn't matter," she said. She took a deep breath and looked around the patio, trying to ignore the gnawing anger in her gut. "So are you going to buy yourself a dress on Tony's dime?"

"Hell yes," Alena replied. Charlotte smiled. That made her feel better.

* * *

Charlotte tagged along with Alena to a few boutiques to help her pick out a dress. They settled on something classy and black that ended at her knees. Then the women parted ways to get ready for the evening. Charlotte started out on the subway, but halfway through she decided to walk the last few blocks to her place. The sun was just starting to set, and she enjoyed the feeling of the cold air biting her cheeks.

Three years she'd been in New York, and only lately was it starting to feel like home. She had a good job, a best friend, and a decent apartment. She felt normal, and it was a blessing. She'd spent so much time living her life in the shadows; it was nice to be part of the crowd for a change.

By the time Charlotte finished getting ready, Alena was outside waiting for her in a private car. Her friend looked stunning in her black cocktail dress, her dark hair curled and put up to show off a pair of diamond drop earrings.

"You didn't wear your hair like that because of Tony, did you?" Charlotte asked, her nose wrinkled. Alena snorted.

"Please," she said, and Charlotte relaxed against the back of the seat. She arranged the skirt of her dress over her knees. It was a simple royal blue cocktail dress with straps that reached down below her shoulder blades. It was the only thing in her closet that seemed fancy enough for Tony's event, and Charlotte thought it complimented her eyes nicely.

"So how long is this thing?" she asked.

"It could go on forever," Alena replied. She wasn't looking in Charlotte's direction, instead her eyes were fixed on the small compact mirror she had in her hand. "It depends on how long the booze holds out." Charlotte nodded. Suddenly, the black clutch sitting between them on the seat gave a sharp buzz. Alena didn't even flinch.

"That's your phone," Charlotte said.

"Yep," Alena replied, still looking in the mirror. Charlotte raised both eyebrows.

"Aren't you going to answer it?" she asked.

"Nope," Alena said. Charlotte furrowed her brow, but before she could say anything Alena continued, "Go ahead and check it if you're curious." Charlotte looked at her friend hesitantly before finally reaching into her purse. Alena's phone displayed a message that she had ten missed calls and eight unread text messages.

All of them were from Tony Stark.

"What the hell is wrong with him?" Charlotte demanded. Alena sighed as she closed her compact.

"Everyone has a different theory," she replied. "I like to think that he's the neediest person alive."

"Or the most self-centered," Charlotte offered with a scoff. Alena nodded.

"That too," she agreed, slipping her phone back into her purse.

Charlotte was stunned to find a short red carpet and a collection of television reporters milling around the outside of the restaurant as their car pulled up. No one even looked twice as Alena and Charlotte stepped out onto the sidewalk, and Charlotte followed her best friend in bewilderment up the front steps.

"Who the hell are they expecting to show up?" Charlotte asked, overwhelmed in her attempts to look everywhere at once.

"Senators, hotshot businessmen, Tony… the usual," Alena listed off.

"So everyone who makes life miserable?" Charlotte asked. Alena smiled at her and wrapped her arm around her friend's shoulders.

"Come on, we'll get you a drink. You'll perk up," she reassured her. Charlotte seriously doubted that, but she decided either way a little alcohol couldn't hurt. However, one look at Tony Stark had her reconsidering her opinion.

"Hey! There she is!" he exclaimed, pointing at Alena. "With friend!" Despite Charlotte's attempts to dig her feet into the floor, Alena was able to steer her toward the billionaire and Pepper Potts. "You didn't answer my messages," Tony said.

"I stopped checking after the photo montage of you in different pairs of sunglasses," Alena replied. It was all Charlotte could do to keep her jaw from dropping.

"Don't worry, I took his phone," Pepper said, holding it up. Alena smiled at her appreciatively.

"Bless you for that," she said.

"So, you look great," Pepper complimented.

"Well, the tie was friend Charlotte's idea," Tony said, pressing his fingers to his bow tie. Pepper turned toward him.

"I meant Alena," she said. Tony raised both eyebrows.

"Well, this is embarrassing," he said. He pointed at Charlotte. "Friend Charlotte, wanna dance?" Charlotte couldn't put into words how much she didn't.

"Yes, and while you're doing that, Alena and I are going to get a drink," Pepper said. She took Alena by the elbow and led her away to the bar. Tony grinned at Charlotte and offered his hand. She repressed a sigh as she accepted it.

"So, how long have you known Alena?" Tony asked as they arranged themselves on the dance floor.

"About three years," Charlotte replied.

"You guys go to law school together?"

"No, NYU," Charlotte said. Once she'd made her way back into the States, Charlotte had thought it prudent to get an actual degree. After a little finagling, she had managed to get herself accepted into an Education program. Alena was on her second master's degree at the time, having already earned her J.D. at Columbia. Why Alena had decided to continue on in school Charlotte would never understand, but she was glad for it, as she had gotten a best friend out of the deal at a time when friends were hard to come by.

"So tell me, any of your Avengers buddies ever show up at these things?" Charlotte asked. She scanned the room, her heart hammering in her chest. She hoped Tony didn't notice.

"You an Avengers fan?" he asked her, cocking an eyebrow. He seemed pleased, and Charlotte really didn't like that.

"Not really, I just read the paper," Charlotte replied. If her rebuff bothered him, he didn't show it. "So are any of the famous heroes slated to show up tonight?" she pressed.

"Nah," Tony said with a shake of his head. "Rogers is always rejecting my invitations. Grandpa's allergic to fun."

"What about the others?"

"Nope, they like to lay low," Tony said. Charlotte mentally breathed a sigh of relief. "Why? Were you hoping to snag Thor's autograph?" Charlotte's spine stiffened, and she clenched her teeth. So he had noticed her tension after all.

"Just curious," she returned. "It's not every day you get to meet a real live superhero, right?" Tony smirked at her.

"I am more than willing to answer your questions." Charlotte sighed. She had definitely brought that one on herself.

* * *

It seemed a miracle of the highest order that Alena had managed to slip away to the roof to get a few minutes of peace. She'd been up at five to get everything arranged for Tony's _Forbes_ shoot, and the charity dinner wasn't something she'd been looking forward to. But she knew Tony would've thrown a fit if she hadn't shown, and she was in charge of paying the caterers and coordinating with the event planner, so her presence was unfortunately necessary. Pepper had gone out of her way to express her gratitude while Alena had assured her that it was just part of the job.

"Was the party too much for you?" Alena turned her head, surprised to find someone standing at her side. There weren't many people who could sneak up on her. Tony's fellow Avenger Natasha Romanoff was the only one that sprung to mind, but it wasn't Natasha who had addressed her. Instead, Alena found herself facing a strange man. He was about 6'2", dressed impeccably, with black hair, green eyes, and a sharp nose. Alena narrowed her eyes slightly. For a moment he looked familiar, but the feeling of recognition passed as quickly as it had come.

"Just needed some fresh air," Alena replied. She turned her face up to the sky and closed her eyes for a moment. "So how about you? Are you enjoying yourself?"

"I'm on the roof," he said as he placed one arm upon the ledge. "I'll let you make your own deductions." Alena smiled.

"You know, I had a hand in planning this event," she told him. "I should take offense."

"Somehow I think you'll forgive me," he said, his mouth curled mysteriously.

"You're very confident," Alena observed. The man leaned forward and dropped his voice.

"Well, I'm quite good at reading people." Apparently, this was true, for he pulled back and picked up his drink before Alena could think of a way to politely excuse herself from his company. "Enjoy the rest of your party." Alena watched him head back inside, her mouth twisted suspiciously. Her clutch vibrated, interrupting her thoughts, and Alena pulled out her phone. Another text message from Tony greeted her, this one demanding her immediate presence downstairs. Alena shook her head and tucked the device away, grabbing her drink as she turned to head out. She stopped when she noticed her cocktail napkin was stuck to the bottom of her glass, drenched in condensation. Alena made a face and peeled it away. She was about to crumple it and toss it away until she noticed a marking drawn on the side. At first she assumed it was a phone number, scribbled down by the man she had just met. Upon further inspection, though, she found it wasn't seven numbers but one— the symbol for infinity. Alena looked over her shoulder, expecting to see the man there again to explain the mysterious message. There was no one. Alena shook her head and tucked the napkin into her purse.

Downstairs she found Tony on the dance floor with Charlotte. She shook her head in amusement as she went to take a seat beside Pepper at their table. For all his faults, Tony was always insistent that Alena was placed at his table rather than relegated to an area for the less important people. The first time they had attended a function together Alena had asked him why. He'd told her she was an important person and left it that. It was something she tried to keep in mind when Tony was driving her insane.

"Is he harassing her?" Alena asked.

"Hard to say," Pepper replied.

"I hope not, a lawsuit is the last thing I need to deal with this week," Alena sighed. Pepper looked at her and chuckled.

"Just make sure you get some time for yourself this weekend too, okay?" Alena smiled at her and nodded.

"Okay," she agreed in a quiet voice.

"So who's next?" Tony asked as he and Charlotte returned to the table.

"Kid, come on, you look like you need some fun in your life," Tony said, waving Alena forward.

"Actually, boss, I think I'm going to call it a night. As long as Charlotte doesn't mind," Alena said. Charlotte shook her head.

"I'm ready to go when you are," she said.

"What? No, I've barely seen you," Tony said. Charlotte was surprised to see him looking so disappointed.

"You see me every day," Alena reminded him.

"This is different," Tony said. "This is fun." He raised his eyebrows at her.

"See you tomorrow, boss," Alena said. "Bye Pepper," she added with a wave.

"Have a nice night," Pepper returned with a smile.

"Please don't fall in love with my boss," Alena muttered as she and Charlotte headed to the door. Charlotte snorted.

"Yeah, fat chance," she said. "He roped me into all those dances."

"Sorry," Alena apologized. "I got shanghaied." Charlotte shrugged.

"It's okay," she assured her. "It wasn't so bad. Tony actually became more likable as the evening wore on."

"Time will do that," Alena said with a nod.

"Or booze," Charlotte said. Alena nodded again.

"That too."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3: The Hawk's Nest

The next day ran much smoother in Charlotte's opinion. She went in at seven to set up her classroom for the science lesson she had planned. She was teaching her first-graders about plants and germination, and they were going to attempt to grow lima bean plants in wet paper towels. It was a classic, and one that went over as well as could be expected with seven year olds. Someone spilled a jug of water, two kids ended up fighting over the same lima bean, and Charlotte ended up running out of time to explain why they were conducting the experiment in the first place.

After her class was dismissed, Charlotte headed out for a walk and a nice hot dog from the Sabrett's stand on the corner. She gave Alena a call to see if she wanted to meet up, but she got voice mail instead and assumed Tony had her best friend running around town looking for shoe polish or something. To keep herself amused, Charlotte wandered around a bookstore for an hour, but she found nothing to hold her interest and decided to call it a day and head home. It was around four-thirty when she made it back to her place. She lived in a small studio in Park Slope, in a building that was tucked away on a corner that no one paid any attention to. She liked that about it.

Once in the lobby she stopped to check her mailbox. There were a few odd flyers, her cell phone bill, and an invitation to the gala Tony Stark was holding next Saturday. Charlotte snorted as she read it over. She guessed she'd been welcomed into Tony's world, though she wasn't sure if she wanted to be.

The elevator was broken, so Charlotte was forced to trek up seven flights of stairs to her apartment. Most tenants were in an uproar over it, but Charlotte didn't mind. If her early life had taught her anything, it was the importance of staying in shape.

Her keys gave a jingle as she pulled them out of her pocket, and she growled in annoyance at the sound. Even though there was nothing to worry about, she didn't like to draw attention to herself. Making noise was a good way to get killed.

Of course, another way good way to get killed was to open the door to your apartment and find a man sitting on your couch. He looked up, as if he was surprised to see her there.

"Hey," he said.

"Hey," Charlotte replied. She closed the door and dropped her keys and mail on a table near the door. The split second her back was to him was the split second Charlotte took to collect herself. Clint Barton. She had never expected to see him again, not in person anyway. She wondered then why she wasn't at all surprised to find him there.

"So you made it back," he said. Charlotte turned to face him.

"I made it back," she returned, without expression. She looked him over. His forehead was bruised, there was a cut over his left eyebrow, and his hands were scraped. She remembered when he'd first been recruited to S.H.I. . He'd been escorted in personally by Agent Phil Coulson himself. The other agents were all awed that Coulson had managed to take down the World's Greatest Marksman, but Coulson had assured them it had been easy. He'd just dislocated the man's fingers.

Clint spent a week in the hospital. A week that Fury gave him to decide if he wanted to spend the rest of his life in jail or go it straight and use his skills for the good of the world. He'd agreed to set up with S.H.I.E.L.D. almost instantly, even faster than Charlotte had. Once she'd gotten to know him a bit better she wondered if Clint hadn't been trying to get caught, like he was looking for a way into S.H.I.E.L.D. only he wasn't sure how to put his foot in the door.

"You need something for that," she said, nodding toward his cut. She went into the kitchen to grab the first aid kit she kept in a cabinet above the sink.

"Yeah, vodka," Clint said in a gruff voice. Charlotte smirked at him.

"How 'bout a band-aid?" she suggested. Clint shrugged.

"That works too," he said. Charlotte settled down on Clint's right and tossed the first aid kit onto the coffee table in front of them. Clint turned so that Charlotte could reach his injury more easily, his face at an angle so that he couldn't see her straight on.

"Where you been?" Charlotte asked. She noticed he was still in uniform. His bow and arrows were stashed in a black duffel bag at the end of the couch. His jacket was draped over that, dark and well-worn. Charlotte remembered it.

"Classified," Clint replied. Charlotte leaned on him with a look. "Mexico City," he relented.

"Well, that sounds very you," Charlotte said. He had a thing for places with lots of sun. Places that made you sweat, so the enemy couldn't tell if it was nerves or just the heat.

"You never called me." Charlotte looked up sharply and met Clint's eyes. She saw a flicker of worry, of hurt. He didn't try to hide it like most other people would.

"Yeah, well, you never called me either," Charlotte said as she swabbed some iodine over his cut. His eye twitched. From the pain or her comment, she couldn't tell.

"You were blown," he reminded her in a heavy voice. Charlotte sighed and sat back with her hands spread over her legs. Their last job together. It wasn't something Charlotte tended to think about anymore. The minute she'd found her way back into the States she'd promised herself everything she'd done before wouldn't be a part of her. She was done with S.H.I.E.L.D., done with living her life on the margins. She just wanted to be normal.

"What are you doing here, Clint?" she asked. Deflection. It was easier than a trip down memory lane.

"I missed you, Ace," he said. Charlotte glared at him for a moment. Ace. The nickname she'd hated until she wasn't able to hear it anymore. It reminded her of the last words he'd said to her. Right before he'd pulled out of Thailand and left her there to rot. It wasn't his fault, in the end. She'd told him to go even when he hadn't wanted to. She knew how things worked. If her cover was blown it was only a matter of time before he was found out too, and she didn't want to see him go down. One of them deserved to be free.

"You're lying," Charlotte said with a smirk. "Why are you here?" Clint shook his head and chuckled softly.

"There's no ulterior motive, Charlie, I wanted to see you," he said.

"Right after a job?" she asked, looking him up and down. Clint shrugged.

"Well, your place is nicer than mine," he returned. Charlotte snorted and grabbed some Steri-strips to tape over his cut.

"Yeah, well, that I believe," she said. She was sure he was still holed up in S.H.I.E.L.D. facilities, living out of a room with no color to the walls and one window. Sometimes when she woke up in the middle of the night she thought she was back there, and it was only turning on the light that convinced her otherwise. "So, I saw you in the paper," Charlotte said. And on TV, and on the internet, and on pictures taped to her students' lunchboxes. "Kind of a high-profile group you've fallen in with. For a government spy." He ignored her jabs and cut right to the quick. He wasn't one for mind games.

"You heard about Phil?" Clint asked in a low voice. Charlotte nodded once and felt her throat close.

"Yeah, I heard," she said, surprised that she was even able to choke that out. "Listen, I have to make a call." She closed the first aid kit and stood. Clint watched her closely. "You'll be okay here, I'm sure."

"Yeah," he said, nodding once. Charlotte noticed concern in his eyes. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," she assured him, her voice still weak. "I just really have to make a call." She grabbed her cell phone and her keys and stepped out into the hallway.

Somehow she made it to the roof. She couldn't even remember getting there or dialing Alena's number. Of course, her best friend's voicemail greeted her again. Charlotte clenched her teeth hard and squeezed her phone between her fingers, half tempted to hurl it over the side of the building. The wind kicked up and caused Charlotte's eyes to water. She took a deep breath and pushed a few loose strands of hair away from her face.

Clint Barton. Damn it. Why was he there? What did he want? Charlotte leaned against the ledge and closed her eyes, losing herself in the warmth of the tears that pressed against her eyelashes. She tried to push past the emotions and think. She licked her lips and took a deep breath. If Clint was there it was because Fury needed her for something. It was the only logical explanation. She doubted Barton would have hunted her down on his own. It wasn't his style. He did what Fury told him, and when he wasn't doing that, he wasn't doing anything. His whole life was the job.

One last deep breath managed to steady her, and Charlotte stepped away from the wall. She was going to get a straight story out of Clint. She didn't care what she had to do. He didn't have any right to do this to her.

But when she got back the apartment was empty, saving her the trouble of a big showdown.

"Of course," she said to the air. For some reason, it didn't surprise her.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4: His Lovely Assistant

One thing Steve couldn't get used to was the fact that both men and women went to the same gyms. He wouldn't have minded so much if it wasn't for the clothing. The things women were willing to wear in the 21st century… they could be a little distracting. Steve spent most of his time staring at the floor, trying his hardest not to notice anything. It was one of the reasons he preferred to get his workouts at the S.H.I.E.L.D. gym, but he'd been avoiding their facilities lately. There was only so much of Fury and his agents Steve could take.

At the gym he stuck to the weights and the punching bags. He found the treadmills not only impossible to figure out but also moronic. If he wanted to run, he could run outside in the open air. And the Stairmaster was just ridiculous to him. Sometimes while he worked people would walk up to him and ask for his autograph, but mostly he went unrecognized, and the employees of the facility always made sure to call him by his first name and nothing else. He appreciated that.

"Damn it, Tony! If you call me one more time I'm going to—" Steve glanced up in surprise, his gaze drawn to a young woman on the treadmill closest to the weight room. She had been forced to slow her jog to a walk in order to answer the phone. Steve was thankful to see that she was wearing a tank top that actually covered her midriff. Not every woman was so courteous. Or every man, for that matter. "Of course you did," she sighed, and Steve raised an eyebrow. She turned his way, and Steve whipped around quickly so she wouldn't see him staring. He felt his cheeks turn red. "I can be in by eleven, how's that?" Steve checked out of the corner of his eyes and found that she'd turned her back to him again. He tried his best to watch her discreetly as he resumed lifting weights. "You're impossible," she said and hung up. She hesitated for a moment then stopped the treadmill, grabbing her phone and her towel as she stepped off the track. She walked off in the direction of the locker rooms, and Steve assumed she was heading out in response to Tony's phone call. He wondered if her Tony was Tony Stark. There was certainly something in the frustration that bled through in her voice that made him think so.

Steve shook his head and placed his weight back in the rack. He was starting to feel restless, and he knew only a good bout with the punching bag could fix that. He took the stairs to the basement level where the punching bags and speed bags were kept along with the yoga mats and balance balls. There was only one other person on the lower level. The same woman who he'd heard talking on the phone. She was unloading her frustrations on one of the punching bags, her hands protected by black gloves that left the fingers exposed. Steve was so distracted in watching her that he upset a rack of balance balls and sent them bouncing her way.

"Sorry!" Steve exclaimed as one ball collided with her thigh. She turned around.

"It's okay," she assured him with a smile. She grabbed the ball nearest her and carried it back to the rack. "Better this than dropping a weight on my foot. Done that, not fun." Steve chuckled. "I'm Alena, by the way," she said as she walked back to her punching bag.

"Steve," he said as he watched her go back to her workout. She had good form. He was impressed. Alena's mouth curled at the corner.

"I know who you are," she said.

"You do?" Steve asked, his brow furrowed politely. He began to wrap his hands with tape. Alena looked over at him.

"I work for Tony Stark," she explained. "You're kind of a friend of his, or so I've heard?" Steve chuckled again.

"I'm not exactly sure what you'd call us," he said. "Was that him on the phone earlier?" Alena stopped and looked at him in surprise. Steve cleared his throat. "I sort of… overheard you," he admitted, gesturing back toward the upper floor. He was sure his face was blazing red. Alena smiled and shook her head.

"I guess I can be loud when I want to be," she said. Steve listened to the muffled thumps of her knuckles connecting with the sandbag. "Yeah, that was him. He forgot Pepper's birthday, so he's in a tizzy."

"This can't have been the first time," Steve reasoned. Alena laughed.

"It's not," she said. "That's kind of the problem." Steve nodded.

"So you're Tony's…?"

"Personal assistant," Alena filled in. "I don't know what I was thinking."

"Well, you must be patient," Steve said. Alena shrugged. For a moment, Steve forgot to move. His face flushed when he realized he only had one hand taped. She was pretty, he chalked it up to that. Pretty girls always managed to turn his brain to soup. One bat of long black eyelashes and he was suddenly seventeen years old again, shorter and skinnier than most of the girls his age.

"It's really not so bad," Alena said. She stopped the punching bag as it threatened to swing back into her chest. "He's a good guy when it counts."

"Yeah," Steve said with a nod. "I've seen him be a good guy." For a moment, he was standing amongst the wreckage of New York, watching Tony drive a nuclear missile into space and not come back. A pit opened in his stomach. Alena struggled to smile, almost as if her mind was trapped in the same painful place his was.

"Well, I should go," she said. "I think I've made him wait long enough." Steve nodded again but couldn't think of anything to say. "Maybe I'll see you at Avengers Tower one of these days? I'm sure Tony will harass you until you agree to visit." Steve smiled. The tower had been operational for about six months, but Steve still hadn't set a foot inside. He couldn't explain to anyone why.

Alena disappeared and Steve finished wrapping his left hand. He lined up in front of the punching bag that seemed to be hanging from the sturdiest chain and promised himself he wouldn't knock the thing off the hook this time.

* * *

"Did you—?"

"A dozen roses and an 'I'm sorry I'm such a jerk' diamond bracelet from Cartier, you're welcome," Alena replied before Tony could finish. He snapped and pointed his finger at her in approval.

"You're a wonder, kid," he told her. "You get those schematics I sent you?"

"You mean the ones you uploaded?" Alena asked with an uncomfortable twist to her mouth. Tony shook his head.

"A year with me, and you're still intimidated by my tech," he said. "Seriously, I thought you said you were a fast learner."

"I am a fast learner, by human standards," Alena returned. "Not all of us are technological virtuosos." Tony smirked.

"Technological virtuoso," he repeated, "I like that, add it to the business card."

"Whatever you want, boss," Alena said.

"Make sure you send those schematics out to Pepper by tonight," Tony said. His attention was already slipping away from her; his eyes fixed instead on a piece of the Iron Man suit he was tweaking on his work table. "She in Malibu?"

"Since this morning," Alena said.

"Great, we follow her out tonight. You're on my plane," he reminded her. Alena raised an eyebrow.

"Your stripper plane?" she asked. Tony glanced up at her.

"Hey, you know I ditched the strippers," he said. "It's just good sake and a video screen now." Alena smirked.

"All right," she said. "We leave at eight."

"Am I packed?" Tony called after her as she headed out.

"Of course, boss," Alena said just as the elevator doors closed.

Back in her office, Alena pulled up Tony's schematics on the glass top of her desk that also functioned as a computer. She would never understand how Tony had gotten the damn thing to work in the first place, but she knew enough commands that she was able to send the plans off to Pepper. That done, she turned to her PC, the computer that she used to conduct all her regular business. Tony might have been comfortable manipulating pixels in the air, but she would always prefer her computer to be confined to a screen and keyboard, as cool as Tony's technological wonderland could be.

She had about a dozen e-mails, but she ignored them for a moment and swiveled her chair so that she was staring out the floor-to-ceiling window that made up the back wall of her office. She had a beautiful view of the Manhattan skyline, one with the Chrysler building standing smack dab in the middle of everything. She wouldn't have traded it for the world. With a sigh, Alena picked up her cell phone and dialed her best friend. Charlotte had called her twice the previous day, but Alena had been knee-deep in reporters pressing for interviews, and she'd been too exhausted by the time her day was over to call back. She got Charlie's voice mail and left a quick message to let her know she was heading out to Malibu with Tony and wouldn't be back for a few days.

Having been born and bred in NYC, Alena hadn't even seen the West Coast until she'd started working for Tony. A year later she was used to bouncing back and forth. Alena turned back to her desk and pushed her hair out of her eyes with a sigh. Her e-mails were still waiting for her, but she ignored them to study the green cocktail napkin she was still carrying around. The infinity symbol had bled a little, but she could still make it out. There was nothing extraordinary about it, other than the fact that it had been passed to her in unlikely circumstances by a stranger. Outside of that, it was just a regular symbol, one she remembered from many torturous days in Algebra. Alena bit her lip and tucked the napkin back into her purse. She had more pressing matters to deal with.

* * *

By eight o'clock that evening all Alena wanted was to be lying in her bed at home, but instead she was walking up the ladder into her boss's private jet, wondering what crazy adventure he had in store for her. They were in Malibu from Friday to Monday, with a gala scheduled for when they landed and then non-stop events until they left again. Tony was adamant on giving his facilities in Malibu a personal once over, just to make sure all was going well with the construction of a new arc reactor. After that they were locked into a visit at the site where the next Stark Tower was going to be built. It was meant to run on the same energy plan that kept Avengers Tower up and running. Pepper had relocated to Malibu indefinitely to oversee its construction.

"Have you eaten?" Tony asked as Alena entered. He was already seated at the table, a New York Strip steak laid out in front of him along with some mashed potatoes and green beans. He motioned to one of the flight attendants and an identical meal was placed before the seat across from him. Tony nodded at it. "You like steak, right?"

"Yeah," Alena said as she sat down. She spread a white napkin over her lap.

"Can we get some red wine? Thanks," Tony said.

"You know, I have those contracts—" Alena began, reaching down into her purse. Tony waved her off.

"I'm eating," he said with a pointed look. "You should be too." The flight attendant returned with two glasses and a bottle of Pinot Noir. She poured until half the bottle was gone. "So you know you're staying with me, right kid?" Tony asked. It was news to Alena, startling news, but she kept that to herself.

"Whatever you want, boss," she said.

"See? This is why I like you. Back when Pepper was working for me she would have said, 'No, Tony, it's so inappropriate. People are going to think…'" he trailed off and waved his fingers in the air, inviting Alena to fill in the rest of the sentence. "But not you," he said through a mouthful of steak. He looked at her, his head tilted and his eyes puckered. "Why is that?" Alena looked back at him unblinkingly.

"I don't care what people think," she replied.

"Not even a little bit?" Tony asked her.

"Not even a little bit," Alena said with a slight shake of her head. The corner of Tony's mouth turned up.

"This is why we work."

The flight was relatively quiet. Alena read the paper while Tony played on his phone and then fell asleep. She woke him when they were about thirty minutes out from LAX, so he could change into his tuxedo. He came out needing his bow tie adjusted, but other than that he'd managed to get himself dressed without incident.

"Aren't you changing?" Tony asked her as she straightened the knot at his neck.

"I have to swing by the house first," she told him. "Someone needs to drop off your luggage and open up the house for you. And I have some faxes to send out."

"Happy can drop off the luggage, Jarvis runs the house, and you _do not_ need to send those faxes out tonight," Tony told her.

"Your Japanese contacts would strongly disagree," Alena replied.

"This isn't a negotiation. I don't remember saying this was a negotiation. Get in there and get changed," Tony said, hooking his thumb over his shoulder toward the bathroom.

"There's no way I could—" Alena began.

"I don't want to hear excuses," Tony said as he dropped into his seat. He clicked his tongue, his eyes already on his phone. "Get going." Alena sighed heavily and stomped into the back to grab her garment bag. She somehow managed to slip into her cocktail dress despite the bout of turbulence that started the minute she entered the bathroom. Getting her hair up and applying mascara was even more of a challenge but nothing compared to trying to step into her stockings. She came out with more bruises than when she'd started, but she was dressed and Tony was quiet, so it was a victory in her book.

"You promise me you're gonna have some fun tonight, all right?" Tony said as they rolled along the crowded streets in the back of a limousine. This time, Alena was the one on her phone, trading a few last minute text messages with the event planner to let her know Tony was en route.

"I am a human piñata," Alena returned in a deadpan.  
"Kid, I'm serious," Tony said. Alena glanced at him out of the corner of her eyes but said nothing. "Have a few drinks, dance a little, let your hair down…" He reached up to give the twist at the back of her head a flick. Alena turned her head that time. "You work too hard," he said. Alena took a deep breath and reached up to pull the pins from her hair; it came falling to her shoulders in dark, messy waves.

"Happy?" she asked him.

"Ecstatic," he returned.

The walk up to the restaurant was lined with reporters. Tony stopped to talk to a few, and Alena hovered in the background, watching to make sure no one person took up too much of his time. The minute they walked into the lobby, Alena handed Tony off to Pepper's care and went to the bar to grab a drink. It might have been five o'clock in Malibu, but her body was convinced it was one o'clock in the morning and all she wanted to do was sleep. She ordered a vodka martini at the bar and watched the other guests mingle and enjoy a nice dinner.

"Black again?" Alena glanced down at her dress before facing her companion. Familiar green eyes. Familiar dark hair. Alena scooped up her martini glass as the bartender placed it at her elbow.

"I like to blend in," she said. The man smirked and leaned on the bar, his forearms resting against the faux marble. "So are you showing up everywhere I am now?" she asked him.

"Mr. Stark and I tend to run in the same circles," he replied evenly.

"And yet you're paying attention to his assistant?" Alena remarked. She took one sip from her drink. It was too dry, but she pretended she didn't care. "That seems a bit odd." The man just smiled at her.

"Do you like your drink?" he asked, his eyes falling to it for a moment. Alena ignored the anxious pull in her stomach. As mysterious as this stranger was, she doubted he was able to read minds. More like he was able to read people, as he'd said to her before.

"Speaking of drinks," Alena reached into her purse and pulled out the green cocktail napkin she'd been carrying since she'd met him. She placed it on the bar in front of him.

"You're still hanging on to that?" he said with a bit of a scoff. "A bit sentimental, are we?"

"No," Alena said. "Just curious. You care to explain that to me?" She pointed at the infinity symbol. The man smiled at her.

"What would be the fun in that?" He reached up to straighten his tie, drawing Alena's attention to his cufflinks. They were sterling silver, engraved with the image of a tree. At first glance there wasn't anything notable about them, but upon further scrutiny Alena noticed a tiny serpent devouring the roots of the tree. Alena's back stiffened.

"Nice cufflinks," she said. The man glanced down at them absently.

"Oh, yes," he said, as if he'd forgotten he was wearing them, "they've been in the family for centuries." He smiled at her. "I'll leave you to your drink. Lovely seeing you again, Miss Monroe." Alena glared at his back as he walked away. She'd only talked to him twice and already he had about twelve characteristics that had her on red alert, the first of those being that he knew her name when she didn't know his. Alena sipped her disappointing martini and turned back to the bar. The infinity symbol was there waiting for her.

* * *

"So how do you like the party?" Tony and Pepper were out on the dance floor enjoying a slow song. It was a beautiful thing. Pepper nodded once.

"I do," she said. She folded her lips, and Tony narrowed his eyes at her.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"Nothing," Pepper said.

"Did you not like your bracelet?" he asked her. He glanced down at the diamond band around her wrist. He made a mental note to thank Alena for flashing a picture of it at him on the way over. He hadn't meant to forget Pepper's birthday… again. It was just hard to get used to remembering it when he'd spent so many years not bothering. His project to become a better man was still a work in progress.

"I do," Pepper said, nodding. She smiled at him. "Thank Alena for me." Tony sighed.

"No…" he began in an undertone. Pepper shook her head.

"Tony, it's fine," she started.

"How did you know? Was it me? Did I give it away?" he asked her. He thought he'd been playing it cool.

"Really?" Pepper demanded. She was angry now. Tony felt a lead weight drop into his stomach. "You forgot my birthday, and the first thing you have to say to me is about how I figured it out?"

"You're right," Tony said. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to forget, I just—"

"I know," Pepper interrupted, "you have a lot going on right now." The way she said it, Tony got the feeling that she wasn't forgiving him.

"Things have just been crazy right now, but that doesn't mean I don't care—" he insisted.

"Why don't you just quit while you're ahead?" Pepper suggested. Tony raised an eyebrow suggestively.

"I'm ahead?" he asked. Pepper shook her head.

"Not that ahead," she said. Tony's face fell.

Later that night, Tony slid back into his limousine instead of driving home with Pepper. Alena was waiting there for him, her eyes fixed out the window.

"She figure it out?" she asked.

"Yep," Tony said as he closed the door behind him. He gave the privacy glass a tap and the limousine pulled out into traffic.

"I'll send 'I'm sorry I'm such a jackass' tulips tomorrow," Alena said.

"Couldn't hurt," Tony said, sinking down in his seat.

Jarvis greeted them the minute Alena unlocked the front door.

"Good evening, miss, I trust your flight was smooth," he said as Alena stepped into the foyer.

"Yes, thank you, Jarvis," Alena replied. Surprisingly enough, Jarvis had been the easiest thing to get used to in Tony's collection of technological oddities. Alena thought it had something to do with his soothing English accent.

"I am also here," Tony said. He bobbed uneasily on his feet as he followed Alena.

"And you look stunning as usual, sir," Jarvis said. Alena smirked. Jarvis's sass was another thing she couldn't help but appreciate about him.

"You should head upstairs, you have an early day tomorrow," Alena told Tony. He waved at her dismissively as he schlepped up to the second floor.

"The first floor guest room has been prepared for you, miss," Jarvis informed her.

"Thank you, Jarvis. Any messages?"

"None that can't wait until morning."

"Excellent." Alena headed down the hallway to the first door on the right. Her suitcase was waiting for her at the foot of the bed, and her garment bag was laid across the brown comforter that covered the mattress. Alena took a deep breath as she placed her clutch on the dresser and took her earrings out. Her mind was swimming from two bad martinis, and images of her mysterious stranger and the cocktail napkin swirled before her mind's eye. "Jarvis, can you run a scan for me?" she asked, pulling the napkin out of her purse. She laid it out on the glass coffee table near the sliding glass door.

"Of course, miss," Jarvis replied. "What am I looking for?"

"Just anything out of the ordinary," Alena replied. A blue checkered light appeared over the napkin. It lingered for a moment and then disappeared.

"Nothing extraordinary, miss," Jarvis informed her. Alena nodded and tucked the napkin away. She hadn't expected so, but it was worth a try. She grabbed her suitcase and pulled out a pair of sweatpants and a tank top.

"Wake me at eight, please," she requested.

"Would you prefer the weather or classical music this time?" Jarvis inquired.

"The weather's fine," Alena replied. "Can you do me one more favor?"

"Anything you want, miss."

"Wake me if Mr. Stark gets up any time during the night," she said.

"Is he having nightmares again, miss?"

"Not sure," Alena replied. "But something's up."

"I'll keep you informed," Jarvis said.

"Thanks, Jarvis."

"Goodnight, miss."

Alena hadn't been down for an hour before Jarvis's familiar lilt was rousing her from sleep.

"Mr. Stark's in the kitchen, miss," he told her. Alena sighed and pressed her hand against her eyes.

"All right," she said. "Anything serious?"

"It appears he is having nightmares after all," Jarvis said. Alena sighed again and let her hand drop into the mattress.

"Okay." She threw the covers off and placed her feet on the floor. It was cold, so she grabbed her robe on the way to the door. "Thanks, Jarvis."

"Of course, miss."

Alena's feet padded silently along the carpet, so Tony didn't notice her as she came to stand at the kitchen counter. He was busy making a smoothie, only one light on. He was wearing a white tank top and silk pajama pants; Alena wondered if he was cold.

"Can't sleep, boss?" Alena asked. Tony turned, startled. Alena noticed the blue glow of his arc reactor through his shirt.

"You should work for the CIA, Monroe," he said, putting his back to her. He flipped a switch on the blender and it started whirring. "Want a smoothie? They're strawberry."

"No thanks," Alena said. "I was just coming out for a glass of water." To support her story she walked into the kitchen to grab a bottle from the fridge. Tony nodded and said nothing. One of the reasons that he liked having Alena around was that she was willing to live in denial with him. He knew she knew why he was awake, and he knew she didn't need to get a glass of water from the kitchen when she could just as easily have gotten a quick drink from the tap in her bathroom. She didn't ask him if he was okay, didn't ask him if he'd woken up in a cold sweat gasping for air. Alena went to sit in the living room and grabbed the paper sprawled out over his big white ottoman that also served as a table. Tony watched her over his shoulder.

"Aren't you tired?"

"I guess it's the jet lag," Alena replied. "My body is convinced it's six AM." Tony switched off the blender and poured himself a glass. He took one sip and made a face. A strawberry smoothie was the last thing in the world he wanted. "If you add rum to that I'm calling Pepper," Alena warned. Tony set his glass down.

"And now you're just scaring me," he said. "Are you sure you're not an alien?"

"Pretty sure," Alena replied. Tony winced at his own joke. Aliens were the last things he felt like thinking about.

"I need some air," he said. "You need some air?" Alena looked at him. It was then Tony noticed she was wearing her glasses. He guessed she took her contacts out at night.

"Sure," she agreed. She stood up. "You should put on a robe. It's cold."

"I'm fine," Tony said, and they headed to his upper deck. Alena was right, it was cold, but it didn't bother Tony as much as it should have. He'd been cold before. So cold that ice had started to creep over his lungs. He leaned against the glass railing that served as a barrier between him and the cliff below. The sea was loud, and he liked that. He liked a lot of noise. Too much quiet and he started to go crazy. He could hear himself think, and it was an awful thing. He rubbed his hand over his eyes and sighed. He was being ridiculous, he knew that. It was just a dream, and it had been a year since… but sometimes things haunted you and there was nothing you could do.

He was doing better. It wasn't like a year ago when the Avengers had first gone on their leave of absence. He remembered his first month back in Malibu. He would stand out on the deck in his Iron Man suit with Pepper standing behind him, unable to take off. After the first few weeks of trying he'd put it away, and he and Pepper had flown back to New York to spend some time getting the plans for Avengers Tower in order. That was when Pepper had hired Alena. She was the perfect assistant. Quiet. Attentive. She put up with his crap. Tony had done everything within his power to mess her up, but she was like an impenetrable wall. The only thing he had managed to do was convince her to drop the stupid formalities. He liked when she yelled at him for being an annoying pain in the ass, and he liked when he could tell she didn't approve of him in the slightest. It reminded him that he wasn't all he was cracked up to be despite his belief in his own perfection.

They spent three weeks in New York as an almost inseparable trio— Tony, Pepper, and Alena— the team that worked round the clock to make sure that Avengers Tower would be a reality rather than a dream. It was on their first trip to Malibu together that Tony and Alena finally spent any time alone. Pepper had stayed behind in New York to deal with the contractors, confident that Alena was experienced enough to handle Tony for a week without back up. That was when the nerves had finally started to manifest themselves. Sometimes he would shake for no reason, or break out in sweats. The nightmares had hit at the same time, vivid enough to make him vomit. Alena had been there for that. At three o'clock in the morning on the day before a press conference, Alena had come into the master bath to find Tony heaving his guts into the toilet. He told her he had the flu, and she pretended to believe him. She rescheduled the press conference, fended off pissed reporters and share holders, and spent twelve hours on the phone with Pepper trying to handle the backlash from the stock drop. Tony spent the next three days wandering around the house in his pajamas, and Alena never said a word to him, never tried to inspire him with some heartfelt speech. She just did what he told her to and stayed out of his way.

"You have a nice view," Alena said. Her eyes were fixed on the ocean while his were fixed on the stars.

"You ever been in space?" Tony asked suddenly. Alena scoffed.

"No," she said. She didn't point out that, besides a few dozen astronauts, Tony was the only person who had traveled outside the Earth's atmosphere.

"Right, of course," he said. He looked down at the ground and shook his head. "It's just so quiet." He paused. "The worst kind of quiet." The worst kind of isolation, too. He figured that was why he hated to be alone now. Why he had suckered Alena into staying at his place instead of setting her up in a hotel like he should have. Alena just looked at him, waiting for him to continue. After a while, he faced her with a smirk. "I sound like bad poetry."

"Not really," Alena said. He snorted.

"You're something else, kid," he said with a shake of his head.

"So are you, boss." When he looked back at her, her face was to the ocean. "Some view," she repeated. Tony lifted his eyes to the heavens.

"Some view."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5: Part of the Game

Charlotte loved Saturdays. Then again, who didn't? Her plan was to get some errands done and then perhaps catch a late afternoon movie if she had the time. She stepped out onto the sidewalk and took a deep breath. The cold was bracing and she relished in it. She was also glad for the opportunity to wear her new purple leather jacket. It had cost half a pay check, but it was worth it.

"Hey." Charlotte's eyes nearly exploded out of her head, and she clutched her chest.

"Damn it, Clint!" she exclaimed. She was tempted to smack him, but she checked the impulse. "What the hell is wrong with you?" Clint chuckled.

"You're off your game, Ace," he commented. Charlotte glared at him. "I thought for sure you would have seen me coming."

"Yeah, well, I didn't," Charlotte said. She started to walk up the sidewalk. Clint followed one step behind her, his hands in the pockets of his jacket. "What do you want, Clint?" she demanded.

"Nothing," he said with a shrug. "I have the day off."

"So you thought you'd spend it stalking me?" He shrugged again. Charlotte growled low in her throat.

"Am I really bothering you?" he asked. Charlotte said nothing, and suddenly Clint reached out to take her arm. "Charlie," he said, his voice insistent. Charlotte looked down at his fingers. The scrapes on his knuckles didn't look any better than they had the day before. "Say the word and I'll go." He was looking at her so hard that Charlotte had no choice but to meet his eyes. She tore at the inside of her lips, trying to drown out the tingle she felt pass through them.

"It's fine," she said, and she took a step back. Clint's hand fell away from her to hang limp at his side. "So where did you go last night?" she asked as she started walking again.

"You said you were making a call," he returned.

"You thought I was finking on you?" she said, shooting an ugly look at his way. They were walking side-by-side now, a small yet definite space between them.

"I did break and enter," he reasoned. Charlotte's nostrils flared.

"You're an ass if you think I'd call the cops."

"No arguments," Clint said with a shake of his head. Charlotte didn't respond. She knew Clint hated too much quiet. "So what's on the docket for today?"

"Nothing exciting," she said.

"I just got back from a whole lot of exciting," Clint reasoned. "I could use a break." Charlotte felt a scream working its way up her throat, so she darted into the nearest bodega. Other people and confined spaces were the best way to ensure she would behave herself. She needed fruit anyway. Clint followed her around silently, not even his footsteps audible, watching her pick out bananas and red apples. It was one of the most infuriating moments of her life. She paid the vendor and walked out, plastic bag swinging from her fingers. Clint was still there.

"So where to—" Charlotte hauled off and swung the bag of fruit into Clint's gut, forcing him back into an alleyway where no one could see her slam the sole of her foot into his pelvis. Clint grunted and threw his arms out to maintain his footing. "Charlie—" he began. Charlotte pushed him up against a brick wall, her forearm digging into his chest.

"What the hell are you doing here?" she ground out. She pushed her arm more forcefully into his chest. She hoped it hurt like hell.

"I told you," Clint said. He grunted again and made a show of trying to break free. She knew he was letting her keep him pinned, she wasn't stupid. The fact that he was placating her was just insulting. "I missed you." Charlotte screamed out in frustration and let him go. Clint rubbed his chest and watched her pace across the narrow alley, her hands on her hips. "Are you gonna hit me again? Because I'd like a warning."

"I'm not going to hit you," she said, her voice low. She sniffed once and blinked, determined to keep herself from crying. "You're a bastard."

"I know." He studied her carefully, wondering when she would turn around. She looked the same. Five foot three, lean and mean with an arm that packed a wallop and a waterfall of golden blonde hair. A deluge of memories hit him, too many to focus on any one in particular. All he knew was that he was glad to see her. More than glad. Charlotte finally turned to face him. Her eyelashes were wet, and Clint clenched his teeth together.

"If you're here to recruit me, you can save your breath," she informed him. Clint shook his head.

"I'm not," he told her.

"Don't lie to me, Clint! Damn it!" Charlotte looked up to the sky and tore at her hair. She blinked rapidly as tears threatened her again. "How long have you known I was here?" she demanded, glaring at him.

"Charlie…"

"How long?" she repeated. She was crying, but she didn't care anymore that he could see. Clint had seen her break down before. It was nothing new.

"Three days," he admitted. Charlotte's eyebrows shot up in disbelief. She had been expecting him to say a month, maybe even a year.

"Who told you?"

"Fury," he admitted, and Charlotte's mouth curled. "But that's not why I'm here," he insisted, raising his voice before she could dispute him. "I just wanted to see you. That's all."

"And what does Fury want?" Clint's face fell. "I'm not stupid. If he told you I was here it was for a reason. He could care less about reuniting two old… partners," she settled on. It was the safest word. Clint passed his hand over his mouth.

"Can't we have a beer and catch up before the interrogation starts?" he demanded.

"No," Charlotte said. Clint scoffed.

"You're still a piece of work…" he muttered.

"And you're still a shitty ass liar," she told him. Clint cocked an eyebrow.

"We both know that's not true," he said. Charlotte clenched her fists as the blood rose to her head.

"You can tell Fury I didn't give a shit about what he wants. I'm not helping him." She stormed out of the alley way.

"Charlie," Clint called after her. He jogged to catch up. "Say what you will, you still walk faster than anyone I've ever seen."

"You should meet my best friend," Charlotte said without turning around.

"Okay, sure," Clint agreed. "Call her up. We'll grab a drink." Charlotte thrust her fist into his chest. Clint didn't flinch. "Look, Charlie, please…" He took her arm and stopped her stride. Charlotte bit into her lower lip and kept her eyes on the ground. "Please." He didn't have any other words left. Charlotte looked up, and Clint felt hope stir in his chest.

"Tell me what Fury wants with me," she said. A few tears fell from her eyes. Clint nodded slowly, his mind starting to turn to the rhythm of hers.

"Is that the only way you'll talk to me?" Charlotte nodded. "Pick a place," he told her. When he released her, Charlotte's arms were shaking.

They ended up in the last car on the D train, their intention to ride it all the way out to Coney Island and back. Charlotte figured it would give them enough time to talk, and no one would bother them in the last car, especially since she'd rigged the lights so that they were all dark but one.

"It took Fury a while to dig you out," Clint told her. "You always were good at having the right papers." Charlotte scoffed.

"Apparently not good enough," she said. Clint smirked.

"He told me he'd decided to let you off the hook," he continued. "He was only going to call you in if something big came up."

"I'm guessing something did," she said. Clint nodded, his eyes on the ground.

"We think so, but it's going to take a little more recon before we know for sure."

"Is that what he wants me for? Intel?" Charlotte asked. "Where? North Korea this time? That way I can get burned in a place I can never come back from?"

"Charlie." His eyes were severe.

"I don't remember any S.H.I.E.L.D. agents lining up to bring me back," she snapped.

"You know I would have come back for you if I could," Clint said.

"You could have," she said in a hard voice. Clint shook his head once.

"You are way too convinced of my powers, Ace," he said. "Besides, you seem to have taken care of yourself just fine."

"I didn't have a choice," Charlotte said through clenched teeth. Her ferocity silenced him for a moment.

"How did you get out?" he asked. Charlotte shook her head.

"Your story first," she said. Clint sighed.

"All I know is what Fury tells me, which isn't much, you know that," he said. Charlotte rolled her eyes. She did know that. "He wants me to check out this ammonia recovery plant near Jamaica Bay. He thinks it's a front for something."

"The job's in the city?" Charlotte said, raising an eyebrow. He nodded.

"I don't know about you, but I don't want to see this place get torn to shreds again," Clint said. "Will you help? I could use you."

"Why don't you get one of your Avengers buddies to give you a hand?" she said, acid in her voice.

"This is a S.H.I.E.L.D. operation," he said. "Fury doesn't involve the Avengers when he doesn't have to."

"Out of the kindness of his heart?" Charlotte mocked. Anger crept into Clint's face.

"Will you help me or not?" he asked. Charlotte took a deep breath, her eyes on the ceiling.

"I don't have any of my stuff anymore," she said finally. Clint's mouth turned up.

"I can take care of that."

* * *

At sunset Clint was at Charlotte's door carrying two duffel bags, one for his stuff and one for hers.

"Are you kidding?" she demanded as she pulled out her old uniform. "Fury kept this?"

"I did," Clint said. He turned away before she could see his face. Charlotte cleared her throat.

"Well, it's a little much," she said. Not to mention the fact that she didn't want to brand herself with S.H.I.E.L.D. issued clothes. It was bad enough that she had to use their weapons. She had opted instead to dress all in black, from her combat boots to her jacket. She wore a utility belt around her waist, one she filled with her weapon of choice— small explosives. She also had a handgun and some extra clips. Clint didn't opt for his Avengers uniform, but instead a suit of all black and his jacket over that. His bow and arrows, of course, were locked and ready to go.

Clint drove them as far as he could, which was about five miles out from their mark. The facility itself was isolated and supposedly shut down for the night. The sounds of men at work on the inside had Charlotte thinking differently. Clint took the lead while Charlotte covered his back, gun out and ready. It disturbed her how easily she slipped back into her old life. Sizing up a mark, watching Clint's back, sticking to the shadows…

As far as security went, the facility relied on an electronic system only and no living guards. It was too big a mistake to make for the outfit of a big shot energy company. From the look Clint shot her, Charlotte knew he was of the same mind.

"Can you hack it?" he whispered. Charlotte raised her eyebrows significantly and Clint smirked. She worked a pair of black leather gloves over her hands and then pulled out her tools. Within minutes the alarm system's motherboard was disconnected and the motion sensors were offline. Rather than take the front door, Clint led them around the back and went for the grappling hook approach. He had a thing for dropping in from above. Charlotte shook her head as she traded out her leather gloves for a pair of black fingerless.

"Show off," she muttered as she grabbed onto her rope. Clint smirked and they headed up. Charlotte was thankful she put so much energy into staying in shape. Even so, the climb up the side of the facility still winded her. Once on the roof, Charlotte attached a small explosive to the door. They both stood back, ears covered, and ten seconds later they were headed down the service stairs. Clint had an arrow ready while Charlotte continued to rely on her gun. The first three levels were empty, and the gnawing suspicion in Charlotte's gut became full blown anxiety.

Eventually, they ended up on the lowest level of the building, haunting the rafters that had been erected for the workmen to service the equipment that was too tall to reach by ladder. Steam from distillation machines curled up around them, making it difficult to see where they were going.

"Something's not—" Charlie began, but Clint held up his hand to silence her. He nodded at her once, urging her to step forward. Clint receded into the shadows behind her while Charlotte took his space at the edge of the railing. She looked down a forty foot drop. On the ground level she saw a team of at least twenty men, all wearing gas masks and dark uniforms. They were working around an area of about thirty square feet that had been roped off with wire. In the center of the square was a pedestal, where men were working diligently with soldering irons and drills.

"What in the hell…? Clint whispered, relaxing his grip. Charlotte crouched down, her eyes narrowed as she tried to commit the details of the place to memory.

"Fury's going to definitely want to call a team in on this," Charlotte said. Clint said nothing, and Charlotte assumed he was deep in Hawkeye mode, scanning the place for weaknesses. "What could they be building?"

"You might want to shut up, Fawkes." Charlotte looked up instantly, her eyes wide. Clint stood stock still, his bow bent and ready. Charlotte slowly rose to her feet. A man in a gas mask stood three feet from Clint, holding a gun that looked like a bad joke out of a science fiction movie. It was all black except for one clear panel, which revealed a glowing blue light on the inside. The man had yet to notice them, but Charlotte knew it was only a matter of time. She swallowed once. "Anyone on the rear?" Clint asked. Charlotte checked behind her.

"Nothing," she said with one shake of her head.

"Then get ready to run," Clint said. He let his arrow fly, and it lodged itself in the man's throat. He dropped over the rail and landed on the ground below. Twenty odd faces turned up to where they stood. "Get out! Go!" Clint shouted, pushing Charlotte forward. She tore down the metal rafters, ignoring the way the bridge shook under her feet. Clint let two more arrows fly as a company of masked men swarmed out of a door on their right. None of them had guns like the one their companion had been wielding, but that didn't make Clint feel any better. Charlotte stopped abruptly, and Clint's back bumped against hers. "What's the hold up?" he demanded, another arrow in place.

"Think Munich," she said.

"Great." Charlotte grabbed two small circular pins from her belt, pushed a button and let them fly into the group in front of her. She grabbed onto the railing and swung over the side, landing on a large metal cylinder five feet below. She heard the explosion as she fell and looked up to find that Clint had levered himself onto the next highest level of rafters. She smiled at him in relief, and he gave her a thumbs up, only to have his resting place rattled by a heaving footfall. He turned onto his back and grabbed another arrow. The man above him was holding one of those glowing guns. Clint heard what sounded like a charger as the man aimed the gun at his head. He didn't give the guy a chance to shoot, but instead swept his legs out from under him. The man landed on his tailbone, and Clint heard a few gunshots. He assumed Charlotte was trying her best to take out their enemies without bringing the facility to the ground. He appreciated that.

"You okay down there, Charlie?" he called out.

"Super!" she shouted angrily. Clint smirked. He'd missed how cranky she could get when a mission went wrong.

Suddenly, a blue steak of light went flying past Charlotte's head. She jumped back, landing on her hands. The light hit one of the masked men square in the chest, only to completely erase him from existence. Charlotte's jaw dropped. She looked down to where the blast had come from and saw one of the men on the floor was holding the same gun she'd seen earlier.

"What was that?" Clint yelled.

"Clint, do not let them shoot you!" Charlotte called back. She pulled a handheld grenade out of her belt, one that'd she'd designed herself. It was made to explode in a localized radius, causing minimal damage. It was perfect for situations when she couldn't get out of the building but still needed to blow a few guys up.

"What do the guns do?" Clint asked.

"Just sit tight!" Charlotte commanded. Clint threw a man over the railing and turned to face his next enemy. He used his bow to chin him and then whacked him over the head. The man hit the ground, unconscious.

"Sure, not a problem," he deadpanned. One of the men leveled a gun to his chest. Clint's eyes widened and he dropped to the floor. A blue blast streaked over his head and took out one of the guys standing behind him. He looked over his shoulder in disbelief. "Well, I don't like that." The sound of a charger drew his attention and Clint rolled, allowing himself to fall over the side of the rafter. He landed on a bridge a few feet below, groaning as his shoulder absorbed the impact.

"What the hell are you doing?" Charlotte demanded, her eyes wide.

"Will you just do whatever it is you're gonna do?" Clint shot at her.

"Cover your ears," Charlotte warned and she let two grenades fly. She turned away, hands clamped over her head. She felt the heat of the explosion against her back, but it managed to take out the guys on the floor, as well as most of whatever they'd been working on. Thankfully, the group of men that had attacked them in the rafters was out of commission as well.

"So much for getting a team out here," Clint said, craning over the edge of the bridge to catch a glimpse of the damage. Charlotte growled a few curses at him as he walked over to lend her a hand. He levered her up onto his bridge, taking so much of her weight that she practically had to put no effort into climbing up. "So what do you think?" Clint panted. "Should we take a look?" The thudding of boots and slamming of doors in the distance ended up making the decision for them.

"Or we could run," Charlotte suggested.

"Running works," Clint agreed, and they both took off at a sprint.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6: Fury

It hurt to breathe. Charlotte had noticed it as they ran through the facility, ducking enemies as they searched desperately for an exit. The cold night air didn't help things, only shot daggers of pain through her lungs and made her throat sore. Clint seemed to be fine, so she didn't say anything. She just kept running until they finally made it back to his jeep. She placed one hand against the side of the car and placed the other against her chest. She bent over and tried to drag in deep breaths as her head spun.

"You okay?" Clint asked. He was winded too, but he had managed to stay standing upright.

"It's the ammonia." Charlotte looked up in surprise as Maria Hill approached them. Before she could process, an oxygen mask was placed over her nose by another S.H.I.E.L.D. agent.

"What are you talking about?" Clint asked, brow furrowed.

"The vapors in the plant," Maria continued. "We would have outfitted you with the proper breathing equipment if you'd bothered to ask for clearance before heading out." Charlotte glared at Clint, but he didn't look at her. "It looks like your exposure was minimal. You would have noticed right away otherwise." She looked at Clint. "We have a change of clothes for you in the car." She pointed behind her, and Charlotte was blinded by the glare of headlights. Clint nodded once and walked on, smart enough not to argue with Maria Hill's stare. Not a second later, two female S.H.I.E.L.D. agents were helping Charlotte out of her clothes and sealing them in plastic bags. She was given a pair of yoga pants, a t-shirt, new socks, and another pair of combat boots. They were all black.

"You'll ride with me," Maria told her. Then she turned on her heel and headed to her car. Charlotte followed after her with a huff.

She and Clint didn't speak a word to each other on the drive back to S.H.I.E.L.D.'s New York base. Maria Hill and her driver were silent as well. All Charlotte knew was that Fury wanted to have a word with them, which was bad news if she'd ever heard any.

Before she knew it, she and Clint were sitting in the debriefing room, tapping their fingers against the table as they waited for Fury to arrive. Clint still hadn't offered to explain himself or even ask if she was all right. He would just look at her every so often, tension in his eyes. Charlotte didn't bother to look back.

"Well, well, well… Agent Anderson, I never expected to see your face in my facilities again," Nick Fury said as he entered. He stopped at the edge of the table, his knuckles digging into the top.

"I'm not an agent," Charlotte ground out, glaring at him with all the hatred she had in her.

"As of this moment, you are," Fury informed him. Charlotte drew back in shock. "Unless you'd like to explain to the police why you decided to infiltrate and destroy half a recovery plant as a private citizen." Charlotte tore at the inside of her lips. "I didn't think so," he said.

"So now what? You just add me to the roster and ask me to pony up whenever you damn well please?" Charlotte demanded. Fury smiled, both frustrated and amused by her attitude.

"Well, since you seem so keen to help out Agent Barton, I'm assigning you to him effective immediately," Fury explained. "And then maybe you can thank me for pulling your ass outta the fire."

"You can't do this," Charlotte said, nostrils flaring. "I have a job. A life. You can't expect me to just walk away from all that. People will get suspicious." She knew she couldn't call upon Fury's sentimentality. He didn't have any. What he did have was a desperate desire to keep S.H.I.E.L.D. as covert an operation as possible, and that meant making sure none of his agents drew attention to themselves. Charlotte wasn't positive, but she had a feeling her coworkers would start to worry when she stopped showing up for classes. Fury dropped a blue file folder in front of her.

"We took care of all that," he said. "As far as the world is concerned, you've been working under cover for the last three years. Charlotte Anderson. First-grade teacher at P.S. 312. You've been keeping an eye on suspicious activity in New York for us, including the job you and Barton managed to screw up so spectacularly tonight. It's all in there." Fury nodded at the folder, watching as Charlotte leafed through the first few pages.

"You are one arrogant bastard," Charlotte said, glaring up at him. Fury leaned closer.

"I'm throwing you a line, agent," he said. "I suggest you take it." Deep down, Charlotte knew he was right. Without Fury's cover story she would be out on her ass with no job and a nice prison term. Part of her wondered why Fury had even taken the trouble. "Good choice," Fury complimented after Charlotte had remained silent for a while. "Now if you'll excuse us, Agent Barton and I have some things to discuss." Clint looked down at the table as Charlotte stormed out.

Her instincts led her to the gym, where she spent ten minutes kicking the crap out of a punching bag. She didn't bother to wrap her hands or put on gloves, so her knuckles were a bruised mess by the time she was done. She didn't care. She couldn't believe how stupid she'd been. Things had finally been starting to go her way, and she'd blown it all to follow Clint on some wild goose chase that wasn't even S.H.I.E.L.D. approved. She couldn't remember a time when she'd hated herself more.

Of course, Clint managed to find her. She knew he would. Tracking had always been one of his strong suits.

"Are you okay?" he asked. Charlotte slammed her fist into the punching bag and let out an unholy scream.

"Son of a bitch!"

"I'll take that as a no," Clint said. Charlotte's face twisted with rage, and she threw her foot into Clint's shins. He took the hit and managed to stay on his feet. Charlotte hated him for it.

"This is all your fucking fault!" she screamed at him. She stormed away from him, but she had nowhere to go. "Why did you drag me into this? What the hell is wrong with you?" she demanded, whipping around to face him. "I haven't suffered enough for Fury's division? Or could you just not stand the fact that someone managed to escape this bullshit while you were stuck here?" She hauled off to punch him, but he caught her fist before she could. He was no longer in a fun mood.

"You know I like what I do," he said.

"Oh yeah, it's great fun spying on people, and breaking in to top secret facilities, and almost dying every other day!" Charlotte snapped. She wrested her hand from his grip. "I fucking love it here!" She kicked the sandbag for good measure.

"You didn't have to come with me," Clint said in a low voice. Charlotte whipped around to glare at him. "You could have let me handle this one on my own, but you didn't."

"So what? You think I wanted back in to this hell hole?" she demanded. Clint shrugged.

"Maybe you missed it," he said simply. "It's hard to leave the game once you're in it."

"It's not a fucking game," Charlotte ground out. Thinking that was how she'd ended up stranded in Thailand with no one to watch her back. She knew better now. She'd grown up. "If you think so than you're even bigger dipshit than I thought you were." She turned to the punching bag and gave it a few jabs. Clint came around to place his hand upon it and forced her to look at him.

"Remember when you didn't hate my guts?" he remarked. Charlotte scoffed.

"It's been a long time since I had anything good to remember you by," she shot back. She made to punch the bag again but Clint touched her shoulder to stop her. She looked up at him and felt the fight rush out of her. She was tired, and she needed a friend. "Did Fury ream your ass?" she asked. She stepped away from him to grab a towel. Clint snorted.

"That's one way of putting it," he said.

"Any word on our next assignment?" Her stomach gave a twinge as she spoke.

"Fury wants to give you a few days to get trained up," Clint explained. "Things have changed since the last time you worked for S.H.I.E.L.D."

"Do they take better care of their field agents now?" Charlotte asked, her back to him.

"No." Charlotte scoffed.

"I have to get out of here." And she did.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7: Getting the Kids Together

Alena was up before Tony that morning. In fact, she'd been up before him every morning, always waiting with coffee and doughnuts. They were scheduled to head to the airport around noon. Alena was sitting on the couch, reading the newspaper with her legs tucked under her. She wore cappuccino colored slacks and a white short-sleeved top. CNBC was on in the background, and Tony assumed Alena was waiting to hear about how the latest press conference and plant tour had helped the Stark Industries stock.

"You know, you're too good for me," Tony said as he poured himself a cup of coffee.

"Are you practicing the speech you're planning to give Pepper the next time you talk to her?" Alena asked, distracted with her reading.

"I was talking to you," Tony said. Alena's head shot up in surprise. "Where are the doughnuts?"

"Not here yet," she replied. Tony raised an eyebrow at her.

"Okay, I may have to take back my first statement." Alena rolled her eyes.

"Was someone looking for me?" Tony craned around the kitchen counter to watch Rhodey enter, box of doughnuts in hand. "Hey, man." He and Tony clasped hands.

"What're you doing here?" Tony asked.

"Thought I'd say goodbye before you go," Rhodey returned.

"Did you bring jelly?" Tony asked as he took the box from Rhodey's hands. "You know that's what I like."

"Hey James," Alena greeted. She stood and they hugged. Tony watched them as he chewed on jelly, fried dough, and powdered sugar.

"Don't squeeze too hard, she's a precious commodity," Tony said. Rhodey laughed as they pulled apart.

"Afraid I'm gonna steal her away?" he asked. Tony scoffed.

"Are you kidding? Alena loves me," he said. "There are no powers on this Earth that could keep her from my side. Right, Alena?"

"Right boss," Alena replied with a smirk. Rhodey headed into the kitchen to join his friend, and the two fell into conversation. Alena collapsed onto the couch and turned up the volume on the television. She'd learned what she'd wanted to about Stark Industries' stock options, so she decided to flip through and see what the other news stations had running. She liked to stay up to date on world events, especially considering the fact that Tony Stark was her boss. She never knew when he might involve himself in some sort of international incident.

Most of the stories were crap, but one managed to catch her attention, if only because it was so bizarre. A leading astrophysicist at Cal Tech claimed to have discovered that a star normally visible in the Omega Centauri galaxy had disappeared.

"Boss, are you hearing this?" Alena asked. She turned up the volume as she got to her feet. Tony and Rhodey entered, their brows furrowed as the story ran on. The astrophysicist's claim was still being investigated by other leaders in the field, Jane Foster being one of them. So far, there was no reason to believe the star had actually "disappeared" as the physicist had claimed but was rather being interfered with by some sort of phenomenon that had yet to be identified.

"Kid, try to get in touch with Banner for me, would you?" Tony said. "Then get me all you can on this Centauri incident."

"You don't think it's anything to be concerned about, do you?" Rhodey asked, studying Tony closely. Tony smiled at him, a lie in his eyes.

"I'm sure it's nothing," he said. "I'm just intrigued. I like science. And when I find out about science-y things happening in the world, I like to confer with my other science buddies. Kid." Tony gave Alena a significant look.

"I'm on it, boss," Alena assured him with a nod. "Nice to see you again, James." She smiled at him and left the room. Tony turned back to the television, purposefully avoiding Rhodey's stare.

"You'd tell me if it was something I needed to be concerned about?" he pressed. Tony smiled again.

"Of course." He clapped Rhodey on the shoulder. "Keep the planes scrambled just in case."

* * *

Avengers Tower was… big. Steve decided big was the best word to use. Loud was another good one. But not intimidating. Definitely not intimidating. He walked up to the reception counter and gave his name. The secretary held a finger in his face as she dialed Tony Stark's floor.

"Mr. Stark," she said, "Mr. Rogers is here to see you… No, not the one from 'the neighborhood'…" Steve's brow furrowed. "Yes, Captain Rogers," the secretary confirmed with a nod. "All right, I'll send him up." She placed the phone back on the hook. "Mr. Stark's in the penthouse. Here's your I.D. badge." She handed Steve a laminated plastic card with his picture on it and a barcode.

"I don't remember posing for this," he commented. The secretary shrugged and offered him a flustered smile.

"Mr. Stark has his ways," she said. "Listen, I hate to bother you but before you go…" The secretary showed him a vintage Captain America comic book, one that had hit the market when he'd first started touring to drum up bond sales. Apparently, the secretary's son was a big Captain America fan. Steve signed the book. He'd made a habit of signing every piece of paraphernalia that was shoved under his nose. In his mind, he signed them all for Agent Phil Coulson, an apology for never having looked at those trading cards until after they'd become meaningless.

The elevator brought Steve directly to Tony's penthouse; his key card had given him express clearance. Tony was the only one there. He was surrounded by robotics and computers.

"Hey Cap," Tony greeted, just barely looking up. "I see you finally decided to visit my super secret club house."

"I don't know how secret it is," Steve said as he stepped inside. "Who's the Mr. Rogers you know from 'the neighborhood'?" he asked. Tony snorted and Steve assumed he'd fallen victim to another one of Tony's jokes.

"So what brings you to my neck of the woods?" Tony asked. "It can't be because you've finally got that big frozen stick out of your butt. Are you here to apologize for never coming to any of my parties? Because that hurt." Ten seconds with Tony and already Steve could remember why he never visited. He wondered if it was the arc reactor that gave the billionaire the energy to talk a mile a minute, or if it was just a God given talent.

"I just thought it was about time I visited the place," Steve replied. "It's impressive."

"Yeah, well, I had some help," Tony said, thinking of Pepper's influence. Steve's mouth turned in surprise.

"You're actually sharing credit?"

"Hey pal, I've matured," Tony said, pointing at him with a silver stick that Steve assumed did… something. "Not much, but progress is progress." Steve smirked.

Before the verbal sparring could continue, the doors to the elevator slid open again. Steve turned in response to the sound, his eyes widening as Alena entered the room. She looked different than the last time he'd seen her. She was much more… corporate. Steve didn't know why he'd been expecting anything different.

"Here are those constellation projections you wanted, boss," Alena said. She placed a few folders down on the table, somehow finding a free space despite Tony's mess.

"Banner call back yet?" Tony asked.

"Apparently, he's in Africa doing some medical work for charity," Alena replied. Tony scowled and dropped his screwdriver. "I'll try to push my way through."

"Yeah, do that," he said. Alena nodded once and then turned to the man beside her with a smile.

"It's nice to see you again, Steve," she said. He smiled back, and Tony's head shot up.

"'Steve'?" he demanded, his brow furrowed. "Why is he 'Steve'?"

"We met at the gym," Alena explained with a laugh. Tony still didn't look like he approved. Steve found that very amusing. "Anyway, I'm glad you finally made it over. What do you think of the place?" Steve hesitated for a moment.

"Well, it's uh… clean," he said. It was all he could do not to bury his face in his hands in shame.

"'Clean'?" Alena repeated, her lips folded as she fought off a laugh.

"Yeah, you can't say that about every building in this city," Steve continued, hating himself more and more each moment.

"You hate it that much, huh?" Alena guessed. Steve sighed in defeat, the tension leaving his stomach.

"Hey, I built this thing for all of us," Tony cut in, looking at Steve in disapproval. "Are you telling me you hate my baby?"

"It's just an adjustment," Steve explained. Tony waved his hand dismissively as he wandered off to grab some more equipment. "Honestly, I had so much trouble finding my way to the elevator, I didn't really get the chance to take a look around."

"All right, well then, problem solved," Tony said. "Alena, give him the house tour. You have all his papers, right?" Alena smiled and gave her a boss a nod.

"I do," she assured him.

"Great, go nuts," Tony said. Steve raised both eyebrows at Alena curiously, waiting for her to make the next move.

"Come on, I just have to grab some things from my office." She headed back to the elevator and Steve followed. He noticed she had a key card just like his, which she slid through a scanner to get the elevator doors open.

"Why exactly do we need these?" Steve asked on the ride down. He flipped his card between his fingers.

"Some floors are private access, others are public," Alena explained. "Since you're an Avenger you have clearance to every floor in the building, including your own private wing." The elevator hit the 49th floor with a ping, and Steve followed Alena out.

"I have a private wing?" he said in surprise.

"All the Avengers do," Alena explained. She led Steve down a narrow back hallway and soon they were standing in her office. Steve stood in the doorway, looking around cautiously as Alena went to her desk.

"That's a lot of books," he remarked, noticing the stacks that made Alena's desk look like a fort.

"Just some light reading," Alena replied. She turned to a file cabinet sitting in the corner behind her. Steve walked in and picked up one of the volumes. It was heavy and old, written in a language he didn't even recognize.

"I take it you understand this," he said as she turned around.

"Not as well as some people," she replied, leaning over to catch a glimpse of the pages Steve leafed through.

"What language is it?"

"Uh… Old Icelandic," she told him. She went to get something out of a squat set of drawers pushed against the wall on Steve's right.

"Is there a reason you're reading this?" he asked her, completely at a loss.

"I studied medieval history in college," she explained. "I just like to make sure I stay fluent."

"Sure," Steve agreed, putting the book back with the others. "I'm sure there's lots of situations where Old Icelandic comes in handy." Alena smirked at him.

"Ten minutes and you're already making fun of me," she remarked. Steve's mouth gaped as he scrounged for words.

"What? No, I was just…" he trailed off.

"Steve, relax," she told him. "I'm just busting your chops." She handed him a manila file folder. Steve opened it to find a few schematics of the building, pictures of certain floors, and a handful of documents he didn't bother reading. "Is Steve all right, by the way? Or do you prefer Mr. Rogers? Or Captain Rogers?" she added.

"Steve's fine," he assured her. Alena stood by the door, her fingers around the handle.

"Ready to start your tour?" she asked him. He nodded.

"Listen, do you know anything about a place called 'the neighborhood'?" he asked her as they headed into the hallway. "Tony brought it up and it's driving me crazy." Alena snorted and shook her head.

On the elevator ride down to the basement, Steve learned all about Mr. Rogers and his friendly neighborhood. He was ready to kill Tony. Alena showed him around the basement, which Tony had converted into a gigantic gym. It had everything a person could possibly want for training. There were also video screens and an intercom, meant to give the Avengers easy access to each other should they be on separate floors. Alena also introduced him to Jarvis, who was kind enough to keep house for them. Steve found his presence a little jarring, but Alena assured him he would get used to it.

The ground level and the ten floors above that were all public access, so Alena skipped over those. The next block of five was all dedicated to Stark Industries labs. Above those, Tony had dedicated the next two floors to his and Bruce Banner's own private use. Alena referred to it as 'Bruce and Tony's Fun House,' which was apparently what Tony had named it upon its conception. Steve wasn't surprised. They were in public access territory for a while until they reached the forty-first floor, which was the beginning of the Avengers private areas. Bruce had the bottom suite, and Alena explained there was an empty floor below that Tony had built in by design as a privacy buffer for his friend. Steve nodded along, his mouth drawn in a hard line. Tony talked a big game about all the fun they had with the Hulk, but deep down, he was sensitive to the fact that Bruce was still hesitant about his gifts and Steve respected that. At least he knew Tony was taking things seriously.

"The next floor's yours," Alena told him as they stepped into the elevator again. Steve looked at her in surprise.

"You have access to it?" he said, noticing she didn't ask him for his card.

"Not exactly," Alena said as the doors slid open on the 42nd floor. They stepped out into a concrete room, not much larger than a walk-in closet. There was another pair of sliding doors in front of them. "Put your hand there," she directed, pointing to a green screen affixed to the wall beside the door. Steve did as she requested.

"Hand print recognition complete," Jarvis announced. "Awaiting retinal scan." Steve looked to Alena, and she pointed to a silver sphere that protruded from the wall. Steve stepped up to it and a blue light shined out of a circle the size of a dime. "Retinal scan complete," Jarvis said. "Awaiting voice recognition." Steve looked at Alena, one eyebrow raised.

"Just say your name," she told him. Steve cleared his throat and looked at the ceiling skeptically.

"Steve Rogers," he said. The doors before them slid open.

"Welcome, sir," Jarvis said. "Please let me know if you'll require anything." Steve stepped inside, surprised to feel a thick white carpet under his shoes.

"We're fine for now, Jarvis," Alena told him.

"Very good, miss," he said, and the doors closed behind them.

"Tony really went all out, didn't he?" Steve remarked. From what he could see, Tony had basically built him a second apartment. Glass panels made up the entire far wall, allowing Steve a view of the New York skyline he never dreamed he could call his own. In the middle of the floor was a sunken in living room, outfitted with modern furniture and a flat screen TV.

"There's a bedroom to the right," Alena said, pointing to an open door not far off. Steve noticed a kitchen in the corner beside it. "And this room has video screens and an intercom system just like the others," she continued, gesturing to the aforementioned devices.

"Tony has this all figured out, doesn't he?" Steve said, still struggling to take everything in. Steve was all for being part of a team, but he didn't know how he felt about Tony having specialized rooms for all of them packed into one space. It was like he wanted to keep tabs on them, or control them, and all that reminded Steve a little too much of S.H.I.E.L.D.

"I'm sorry?" Alena said, politely bewildered. Steve turned to look at her, guilt stinging his chest. He didn't want to unload on her. Whatever crazy schemes Tony had up his sleeve were best left discussed with the billionaire. Alena was just doing her job.

"Nothing," he said. "So how about the rest of this tour?"

"Do you not like the suite?" she asked. Steve wasn't sure, but it seemed like she was put out.

"It's fine," he said. Alena smiled at him but not with her eyes. "It's a little much," he admitted.

"Your prerogative," she said with a shrug. She turned and headed toward the door. "I think it's nice. Jarvis, we're leaving," she said. The doors slid open. Steve hurried to catch up with her.

"I didn't mean to offend you," Steve said as they stepped into the elevator.

"You didn't," Alena said, she pushed the button for the 49th floor. Steve raised an eyebrow. He guessed the tour was over. "The next few floors are private rooms for the rest of your team. I don't have clearance," she said, as if he could sense his confusion. "And remember floor forty-four. It's where you'll 'assemble,' according to Mr. Stark." Steve nodded once.

"I really didn't mean to upset you," Steve insisted. She could say she was fine all she wanted; he could tell she was annoyed. He'd been on the receiving end of the cold shoulder before, though it had involved more shooting the last time.

"You didn't," Alena said. "I just think you could go a little easier on this place. Tony put a lot of work into it." Steve repressed a scoff.

"Yeah, I'm sure he did," he said. Another monument to the Stark ego. Alena looked him in the eye.

"He really wants you to like it," she said. Steve looked at the ground as he felt heat creep into his cheeks. "He built it for all of you. So you could have a place…" she trailed off as the elevator opened onto the 49th floor.

"So we could have a place to what?" Steve asked. Alena turned to look at him with a smile.

"Just so you guys could have a place away from everything else," she said. "I have to go." Steve cleared his throat and nodded. "It was nice of you to stop by," she added before she headed off. The elevator doors closed, and Steve stood still for a moment, trying to absorb everything.

He left with the feeling that he'd disappointed someone.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8: Working Late

Charlotte had been down in the gym for about an hour. It was late. Probably too late to be getting in a work out, but she couldn't sleep. It had been two days since she'd been assigned to Barton, but so far, she hadn't seen him. Instead, she'd been running the paces with Maria Hill, who got her up to speed about S.H.I.E.L.D.'s latest mission and their newest protocols. It wasn't much different from what Charlotte remembered, aside from a handful of new pass codes and the Avengers Initiative. The latter was a project so top secret that her clearance didn't allow her much insight into the project anyway.

"Still punching things?" Charlotte looked up, a few strands of hair hanging in her eyes. She was working with one of the dummies on the floor, practicing her aim when it came to jabs and kicks. Clint walked toward her casually, his mouth turned in a smirk.

"Better than people," Charlotte huffed. She pushed her hair away from her face. She was covered in sweat, so she went to grab a towel, putting her back to Barton.

"Depends on the people," Clint said. He crossed his arms over his chest.

"So has Fury been keeping you busy?" she asked. She knew better than to pick up Clint's bait. It would only end with one of them pinned on the floor mats, and she wasn't in the mood for that.

"Not really," Clint said. "I've been laying low the last few days."

"Does that seem like the wisest move when you've got a recruit to train?" Charlotte asked. She grabbed her gym bag and heaved it onto one of the weight racks.

"You're not exactly new to this," Clint commented. He moved closer to her, and Charlotte's back stiffened.

"You're still my boss," she said, turning her head away so their eyes couldn't meet.

"You know I've never seen it that way," he said. "We're partners." She remembered the days when that was true. When they'd worked together under Coulson's umbrella. There was no Coulson to answer to now. Charlotte swallowed hard.

"I have to go," Charlotte said. She took one step, but Clint grabbed onto her arm before she could take another.

"Come on, Charlie, when's the ice going to thaw?" he demanded. Charlotte rested her arm from his grip and tossed her bag on the ground before facing him.

"Don't make punching you seem like a good idea," she warned.

"I'd prefer that to the way you're treating me now," he said. "You don't think it's ridiculous to skirt around each other?"

"You're the one who's avoiding me," she shot back. "I am _more_ than available. Fury's got me running the paces around here."

"Damn it, Charlie, just stop!" Clint exclaimed. He walked away from her, clenching his fists in an attempt to get his temper under control. "How long are you going to hold a grudge?" he demanded, desperation in his voice. He turned to look at her, and Charlotte found a sadness in his eyes she hadn't wanted to see before. "I've got things to be mad about too, you know," he said. Charlotte scoffed. Clint glared at her, his jaw line rigid. "I thought you were dead," he told her. "You were as good as dead when I left you behind. We both know it. It's a miracle you survived, let alone made it back to New York. Then I find out you were here all this time and you didn't bother to let me know you were okay. How do you think that makes me feel?" He stared at her, waiting for an explanation.

"I didn't want Fury to know where I was," Charlotte said, her voice soft. "I promised myself I wouldn't get mixed up in anymore S.H.I.E.L.D. bullshit. I couldn't go through that again."

"Fury didn't have to know," Clint returned. Charlotte's nostrils flared.

"Come on, Clint," she reasoned. "You know he would have found out if I went to you. Besides…" She looked away. "I figured you'd be better off." Clint's eyes nearly exploded out of his head.

"Better off thinking you were dead?" he demanded. "What is wrong with you?"

"It was just simpler this way!" Charlotte shouted. She threw her hands to her sides, clenched in fists, and closed her eyes against the pain of it all. She didn't want to talk anymore. She didn't want to rehash the past or think about it. It was over and done with. There was no point in reliving it. She just wanted to serve her time with Fury and find a way back out.

Clint passed his hand over his mouth angrily as he shifted from foot to foot. He wanted to scream or break something. In the end, he just ended up whispering, "You're so fucking selfish, Charlie." She glared at him, surprised to find her whole body shaking.

"I was just doing what I thought I had to do to survive." Clint felt his expression softening. Charlotte rubbed her cheeks, pretending it was because the sweat was irritating her skin and not because she was crying. Clint wrapped his arms around her, crushing her against his chest until he was the only thing she knew.

"Wouldn't it have been easier to just get a beer?" he teased. Charlotte chuckled and pressed her face against him. She felt his chin against her hair. "Maybe you had the right idea about not talking about anything." Charlotte shook her head and looked up at him. Clint offered her a smile. The same smile he'd been flashing her all his life— _trust me, I know what I'm doing, no one's ever gone wrong throwing in their lot with me— _Charlie had always told herself she didn't believe the lie it told, but in the end, she'd believed in Clint in a way she'd never believed in anyone else.

And then their embrace became a kiss. It started slow, with Clint's hand working its way into her tangled, sweaty mess of hair. His forehead against hers and then his lips. Charlotte wrapped her arms around him until his body was digging into hers.

"Fuck…" he whispered against her mouth. They both knew it was bad. A horrible idea, and yet Clint slipped his arm around her waist and leaned in again, sucking on her bottom lip and her tongue, tempted to push things further but still unsure. Charlotte's fingers curled into his shirt and then they separated to take a breath. "Oh… bad idea," Clint murmured, his eyes still half-closed. "A very, very bad idea." Charlotte licked her lips and flattened her hands against his chest, gently pushing out of his embrace.

"I think we need to…"

"Be somewhere that isn't here? I agree," Clint said. They stepped away from each other.

"I'm gonna go," Charlotte said, one hand still on his chest. Her palm was warm, and Clint was half crazy enough to tell her to stay and let that hand fall lower and lower until his pants were unbuckled and they were on the floor. But it wasn't that easy anymore. "See you tomorrow?" she asked with half a smile and worried eyes. Clint nodded.

"Definitely, yeah," he said, perhaps too enthusiastically. Charlotte grabbed her gym bag and headed out. The minute she was gone, Clint reached up to tear at the tips of his hair and let out a heavy sigh.

_"Well, you really managed to fuck yourself this time, Barton_._" _Then he headed upstairs to grab a shower.

* * *

"I love New York pizza. We should have it more often," Tony said, his mouth full of hot cheese. He'd invited Alena up to the penthouse to have dinner with him. He figured it was the polite thing to do, seeing as they were the only two left in the building aside from the janitorial staff. "In fact, make it a regular thing." Besides, he liked company, and Alena's company in particular. "Once a week, we have pizza. _And_ I don't want to see any other kinds of pizza in my presence, that's another rule. Are you making note?" He looked up at Alena, one eyebrow raised.

"Of course, boss," she replied, both hands occupied with her own slice.

"So what'd you think of Rogers?" Tony asked. He wiped the crumbs from his hands and returned to his work table. It didn't seem to bother Alena in the slightest.

"He seemed overwhelmed," she replied in an even tone.

"Is that your Alena way of saying he hated the place?" Tony pressed. Alena smiled at him, meeting his eyes.

"I don't think he hates it," she said. Tony picked up a small screwdriver.

"But he doesn't like it," he said. Suddenly, he felt cranky and put out. "I need ice cream. Do you want ice cream?" he asked. He picked up his cell phone. "You know what? Screw ice cream, we're getting gelato. I know a guy." He dialed the first six digits of the number. "What flavor do you want?"

"Chocolate," Alena said, her eyes never leaving him. Tony ended the phone call before it could even begin and sighed. Alena stood and came to stand across from him at his work table. She handed him another pizza slice, which he devoured. "Actually, he reminded me a bit of you," Alena told him. Tony scoffed.

"How ya figure?" he demanded.

"Well, he is an Avenger," she pointed out.

"So's Banner. Do I look large and green to you too?" Tony asked.

"I think he's sad, Tony," Alena said. "What would be going on in your head if you were in his shoes?"

"Thank God, I live in an era with internet," Tony replied. Alena's mouth twisted in disapproval. "Not the answer you were looking for?"

"How about, 'Oh God, I don't belong here'?" Alena supplied.

"Hey, he belongs here," Tony said, gesturing all around him. "That's why I built this stupid place." He tossed his tools aside in frustration and gripped the table. "Do you think I'm sad?" he asked without looking at her.

"Of course," Alena replied, as if it was not only the most obvious answer but the only one. Tony felt a shock run through him. He grasped the table's edge harder, his knuckles white from the strain. Alena didn't move. She knew he didn't want her to.

"Did you ever hear back from Banner?" he asked finally, straightening up. He picked up his tools again.

"He'll be here tomorrow morning," Alena replied with a smile. Tony glanced up. His excitement was palpable.

"How'd you manage that?" he asked.

"He's just as interested in this missing star situation as you are," Alena explained. "I guess you and he are the only ones with a sixth sense about strange cosmic activity."

"Oh, I am loving this," Tony said, clapping his hands together. "I am loving this. You got work ups for me?"

"I already dropped everything to your devices," she replied. "And Jarvis has them on file."

"Awesome," Tony said. He turned to another table where he kept his tablet. "Make sure we've got back ups on a zip drive." Alena nodded, watching as Tony raced through the documents she'd collected on his iPad. "Also, do me a favor and get some paper copies. Banner likes to work with his hands, and I know technology makes you squeamish. You and Rogers should form a club." Alena raised an eyebrow.

"You want me to have the files too?"

"Of course I do," Tony said, looking offended that she could think otherwise. "You're my right hand woman, you need to be well-versed in all my doings. Also, how do you feel about spying on the government?"

"Probably not as bad about it as I should," she replied. Working for Tony Stark did tend to make one immune to things like infiltrating government intelligence systems. Half the time Tony just did it for fun. He clapped in approval.

"That's what I like to hear," he said. "Start moving in on S.H.I.E.L.D. intel. Jarvis can run it. I want to know what they've got going on this."

"I take it you think they're involved somehow," Alena said.

"It's S.H.I.E.L.D., you just know they've got their fingers in the pie," Tony reasoned. "Messing with the Tesseract was what started all the Loki business. I'm sure they've managed to get their hands on someone's radioactive My Little Pony and piss off another freakish race of monsters." Alena scoffed.

"Whatever you say, boss." She headed toward the elevator.

"Where did we land on gelato?" he called after her.

"I'm in if you are," Alena said as they doors began to close in front of her. Tony pointed in her direction as he picked up his phone.

"That's what I like to hear."


End file.
